


Vignettes

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-21
Updated: 2003-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-29 12:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14473071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Scenes from a couple's story.





	Vignettes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

Vignettes

## Vignettes

### by skripka

Vignettes 

Z/W  
Het  
R  
Warnings: language  
Spoilers: War Stories, Out of Gas, slight Heart of Gold (will not ruin anything if you read this, though) Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. No profit made from this endeavor. All belongs to Mutant Enemy. Archive: Take it, make into origami cranes, just let me know. Feedback: Is as welcome as shiny origami cranes. 

* * *

The "Before" and "Later" bits (with some modifications) were originally posted as responses to ff_friday challenges. Many thanks to the posters who encouraged me. And, of course, to sffan, the shiniest beta in the `verse. 

* * *

Translations: Tamade: Fuck; Yuchun: Idiotic; Hundan: Bastard

* * *

**BEFORE**

Wash is sitting in his special chair, staring out at the dusty air ahead of the ship. He has his favorite dinosaurs arranged in front of him, but he's not playing. He's waiting for the job to be over, already, but he's not playing. 

Thinking. Usually it's too much work. But lately, Zoe has been looking at him funny. He's sure it has to do with the overtures he's made, he's just not sure how she's receiving them. 

This morning, before breakfast, was his boldest move yet. The note, folded into a delicate flower. He's thinking, maybe it was too much, too soon. Another voice in his head says, if not now, when? If it weren't for Zoe, he thinks, he would have left this ship already. Sure, it's a _Firefly_ , ain't nothing like it flying, but the captain is nuts, and the mechanic is _yuchun_. 

"Dude," the voice behind him drawls, "dinos." 

" _Tamade_ ," Wash groans, under his breath, rolling his eyes. "Go away, Bester. I need to concentrate." 

"Shiny, dude," and the tattooed idiot heads out. This boat needs a different crew. He's pretty much hating everyone but the dinosaurs. And, Zoe, the conundrum that has been occupying his mind. 

Which is wandering so much, that he almost doesn't hear the comm flicker, and punch out, "We're on, Wash, fire it up!" He is startled, and knocks a couple of plastic buddies onto the floor. "Gorram it!" he yelps, and starts with the switches. Sluggishly, the engine responds with a shudder. 

He's fighting with the controls, cursing Bester again and again, under his breath, as _Serenity_ gains altitude slowly. He senses a presence behind him as they finally break atmo. He's sweaty, and pissed off, and sure as hell does not feel like defending himself from the _hundan_ in charge. 

"Not the smoothest take-off," Zoe states from her perch near the storage locker. That voice alone is enough to create a visceral reaction. He's turning red, he can feel it. 

"Not my gorram fault. Engine's needing some work." He feels judged, he feels watched, but most of all he feels anxious. Why is she still here? Is he going to get punched, or shot or something? At least, he figures, if Zoe kills him, her face will be the last thing he sees. Now, isn't _that_ a shiny thought, he thinks. 

The stars beckon her closer, and he can feel the flush move to the back of his neck. He's refusing to look at her. And he's willing to bet a pack of protein that she's not looking, either. 

"You wrote that note, today." It's a statement. She never questions. 

"Yeah." 

"Do you mean what you said?" Well, almost never. 

"Yeah," and he's feeling reckless, what the hell, let's spin languidly in the chair, and .... wow. There are her eyes, deep and dark, and looking straight at him. Zoe's toying with something in her hands, but her eyes hold him like a magnetic grappler. "Um," finding his voice, barely, "Is that a problem?" He is so going to either die or get thrown off _Serenity_. 

"Still trying to decide," dry as ever, when suddenly she leans in, and brushes her lips over his. Startled, he half rises out of the chair, and deepens the kiss suddenly. Her gasp is electric, and he falls back, stunned. Zoe has a bemused smile on her face. 

"Next time," she purrs as she hands him the triceratops, "that moustache had better not be there." As she stalks off the upper deck, Wash is again alone, with the stars, and thoughts that now include a razor. 

**DOWN THE LINE**

Zoe laughs as Wash pushes her down to the bed, one last time. 

"Honeymoon's not over until I say it's over!" 

"Husband," and she loves the taste of that word, especially now, in the early light of this little green moon. 

"Wife," and his grin widens more, and his eyes twinkle like the stars they live among. He leans in for a light kiss, a brush across the lips, really, but she grabs his hair, and pulls him in deeper. 

He smiles, and gives himself up to her, and they spend some time traveling to the place where there is no time. 

**NOW**

He hates Niska. Hates with a passion. He has never felt this deep, burning desire to just rip vital organs out and stomp. He's guiding the shuttle back to Serenity with a vengeance. No matter what else he's feeling, he's still a pilot. 

He has to remind himself of that. 

Niska took him, along with Mal, away from their safe haven. Nearly broke him, left the captain crazier than ever. Then there was the vision of an angel, all dusky skin and dark eyes, swooping in to save him, take him away. He's _almost_ sure now that it was real, and wants to reach over to touch her skin, give her hand a squeeze. He won't, though. There's still a roiling anger in his gut, and he doesn't trust his reactions. 

Tears form in his eyes, even though the pain is being pushed aside for the heady rush of adrenaline. He refuses to look at Zoe, he's so angry. He doesn't want her to see how his heart has been twisted all around. 

. . . 

She hates Niska. Hates with a passion. She has seldom felt the need to eviscerate a person before. Dispassion is a prized quality in a soldier, and no matter what else has happened, she knows she is still a soldier. 

Isn't she? 

Niska took the two men that she admires, cares for the most in this `verse. Nearly broke them both, and then made her choose. Of course it played out that way, it was expected, but she still wants to wrap her hands around a vital organ and squeeze, just to hear the bastard's scream. 

Tears in her eyes, she refuses to look in Wash's face yet. She doesn't want him to see the levels of hatred, the depths of fury she has towards the man who took her heart away, and twisted it. 

**WHENEVER**

Wash is smiling, Zoe is giggling playfully. His hands trace invisible words on her skin. 

All the frustrations, all the annoyances, they all melt away when they are alone, together. There is something so right, so perfect about these times. 

The work they do to live, the work they do to live together, it all is relegated to background noise. This is where, when, who, they are. 

There may not be love at first sight, but there is certainly such a thing as true love. They thank God silently and together for that simple truth. 

**LATER**

Mornings get started early on Serenity. It's just the rhythm of the ship, the long, slow winddown in the evening, and an energetic push to start the day. 

For Zoe, it's been a bit more frenetic than usual. There was that appointment with the doc, first thing, some paperwork to take care of, and a husband to roll out of the bed. Finally, after a brief conversation, it was time for a well-earned breakfast. 

Wash follows her to the galley, a fantastic, silly grin on his face. She's reminded of why she married the man in the first place. Most of the crew is in place, Mal at the head of the table, Jayne shoveling food into mouth already. Book is talking to Inara, while Kaylee and River chatter over the morning's mush. Zoe heads to the counter, and scoops out a couple of bowls for herself and Wash. As she begins to pour a cup of coffee, Simon enters, and raises one expressive eyebrow. She sighs, and hands the cup to Wash, who bounces gratefully. 

The three of you take your seats, but only the two men dig into the reconstituted protein. Zoe stares at the unappetizing grey mass. Simon asks Mal when the next supply run will be. She can barely hear the captain's reply, her stomach is starting to make funny noises. Their conversation goes back and forth, and she's hoping to God that these grumbles aren't audible to everyone else. 

"Hey, Zoe," Kaylee chirps, "you feelin' all right? You're looking a mite green there." 

Everyone stops what they're doing, and there's a question in their stares. Zoe blushes, and her stomach completely takes over her body. "Excuse me," she mumbles, standing up, and leaves the galley for the privacy of her own head. 

As she quickly makes her way down the fore corridor, River states calmly, "It's almost as good as being a real aunt." 

#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to skripka


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